The Silver Arrow
by midnight6606
Summary: A story totally made up, but it is sort of like Eragon, minus the dragons. There is a terrible war going on and only one person can stop it, but when it turns out to be a small little farm boy, what will happen? T for language and violence.
1. Prologue

**The Silver Arrow**

**Prologue**

Ominous clouds covered the skies like a thick, black blanket of despair. The villagers of Haberforth gloomily walked through the streets, buying, selling, walking idly, and talking amongst friends. However, when the first drop of rain fell on a female villager's nose, everyone rushed for their houses. Rain was terrible in Haberforth—people had to flee for their lives. Creatures would come out of nowhere and attack their crops and livestock; they would break into the bars and steal the mead along with meat and grains. What the villagers didn't know was, these were not creatures—merely wizards whom have transformed themselves into the misshapen shape of a bird. However, the creatures would not penetrate the warm home of a villager; too much blood has been spilt by the war and no more shall scar the ground.

The war had been going on for thousands of years, but no one has thought so much as to stop it. It was out of their hands and they could do nothing about it—nothing at all. By now, everyone was desperate; warriors of the war would come through villages and tear them down in search of guns, gun powder, food, clothes, and sleeping bags. They have yet to come to Haberforth, which was in the southeastern part of Malisea. The troops were far away from the cozy little village that had always been safe—until the Ragnok arrived. These were the half-bird, half-men that would rob the villagers of their goods.

"We need to stop the Ragnok!" a man exclaimed at a board meeting after the rain had passed. "We cannot afford them to take any more of our goods! We are low as it is."

"And what do you proclaim, Ander? We have pitchforks, they have talons. We have torches, they have beaks. Tell me, Ander, how do you defeat the undefeated?" another man, whose voice was quite low, snarled.

"Turam, I am sure you know that they are only undefeated because we have not challenged them. Are you too much of a coward to fight for your wife—your children?" Ander had struck low between the knees. Family was too important in Haberforth; having a wife meant you were successful in life and having children meant you were above extraordinary.

"Ander is right, Turam. We must fight for our wives and our children! The future of Haberforth is in their hands. Without a proper supply of food, they would starve and without a proper supply of clothes, they would freeze. We must attack them before it is too late!" a man named Urio exclaimed, slamming his fist on the table for emphasis.

"And who, might you suggest, would take the role as to kill the Ragnok?" Turam growled. "Certainly, our families cannot prosper if our wives are widows." Argument broke upon the men. Some of them slammed their fists on the table, and some shouted verbal threats that were backed up with a punch to the wall or a pointing finger and a death glare.

"Gentlemen, calm down. Shouldn't we act as if we were civilized?" A calm, gentle voice came from the door, which now stood ajar, the cold winter air seeping into the warm shelter. The voice could have been feminine, but it was way too deep. Although, it was as reassuring as the crackle of fire on a snowy day.

"Oi! Who are you?" a man called from the far end of the table. The hooded man merely grinned maliciously.

"Adier, hmm? Well, Adier, I am the one feared race in this country. I am a Night Elf, master of magic and the master of the bow. You will have respect for me, sir, as you will have towards Ralf, the King of Malisea himself." The man—elf—took off his hood to show his bright gold hair and his sparkling emerald green eyes. His face was flawless, the features matching his dark, elfish skin. His ears started normal at the bottom, finely shaped, but at the top, it was like the point of a spear. "My name is Marlo, the Great, and I have come to help your village."


	2. Chapter 1: Joy Ride

**Chapter One: Joy Ride**

Alec! Get your butt over here and feed this horse! Hurry it up, too; your mother has supper on the table and it's getting cold!" a deep voiced man yelled from the house. Currently, a twelve-year old boy sat in the fields of corn, his forehead beaded with sweat and his eyes were narrowed from the sun beaming down upon him. He knew it; he never got a wink of sleep nor a break. He sighed and stalked off to the barn, where, Frostblight, their white stallion stood, looking at the boy with unnatural blue eyes.

"Hey, boy," the boy murmured, stroking the horse's muzzle. "How are you today?" His voice was gentle and caring. This horse was his best friend and the only thing he talked to. He didn't think of this horse as a something, but more of a someone. The horse nodded its head as if he were saying loudly and clearly, "Good."

The boy smiled a brilliant smile and grabbed the pack of horse food. He scooped up a large amount and walked to Frostblight's feeding bucket. The horse kicked back on its hind legs, letting out a sharp ninny of excitement. The boy's smile became larger than life at that. He poured the food into the bucket and threw the cup back at the pack of horse food.

"Hey, boy, dinner's ready. Want to go for a ride afterwards?" Frostblight's muzzle was inside the bucket, eating the food, but it flicked its white tail at the door quickly. The boy nodded and jogged out, heading towards home.

"Finally!" Alec's father, Ron, exclaimed. "Your dinner is cold." Alec closed the front door and sat in his designated seat at the table.

"Sorry, Pa. Frostblight wanted to play." The boy replied, grabbing his wooden fork and started to eat.

"A horse? Wanting to play? You're too crazy," Pa muttered. Ma merely stayed quiet, looking only at her food.

"You'll be surprised, Pa. That horse does a lot of things you don't know about." Pa seemed to bristle at that and Alec paused. His father had a short temper and his father didn't believe in most of the stuff Alec believed in.

"Stop," his mother, Ariana, said. Her voice was firm and sharp. Pa leaned back in his chair, sighing.

"May I be excused?" Alec said when his plate was finished. Ma looking up at him, concerned.

"It's cold outside. Please sleep with a blanket." Ma murmured, eyes flicking towards the door. Alec smiled and nodded. The boy then ran to his room, hastily shutting the door. He grabbed some of his warmest clothes and his hat. He opened his little window and wriggled out of it, running towards the barn.

"Frostblight!" the boy yelled. The horse trotted towards the boy, the saddle and reins already on him. The boy grabbed the horse's mane and hauled himself on the saddle. Of course—with it being summer—it was boiling hot. However, if Ma predicted the weather, she'd always be right. She was a fortune teller, or something.

He rode as the sun drifted lower and the weather got cooler. Now he was happy to be wearing the warm gear. The moon was high in the sky—indicating midnight—and there was a sudden gust of wind. Take Alec off guard, as well as Frostblight. The horse reared and started to gallop home. As the wind got fiercer, snow began to fall from the sky—a blizzard was born.

Knowing this, Alec urged the horse to run faster but the snow was thigh height. A branch suddenly caught onto his shirt and heaved him off the horse. The horse rode on, now noticing that the boy had fallen off. Scared, he stood up, the wind howling in his ears. As terrified as he was, he trudged on, yelling his horse's name.

The wind became stronger—the snow turning into hail. The little shards cut into his cheeks and clothes. Loosing blood and body heat, he walked on, all the same, calling his horse's name. Where had the sudden storm come from? It was summer for God's sake!

Alec fell to his knees—the forest looked the same… he was merely running in circles.

_You won't escape! _the wind howled hauntingly. The boy looked around, emerald eyes wide.

_You will die! Yes, you will die! _the wind howled. He glanced around him shivering.

"Who's there?" the boy called nervously.

_Die! Die! I shall take you in my cold grasp! _the hail laughed. He suddenly fell to the ground, vision fading.

_Die! Die! Die! _the wind and hail echoed in unison.

Alec closed his eyes, his muscles relaxing.

_Die! Die! Die! Die…_

The voice stopped as the boy acted the cold, lonely grip of death.


End file.
